Aurora Magazine 2011

The love of the game Danya Long, Campus 2011

Clean grass and dirt fill the air, Shouts from coaches and players resonate. Cracks of bats and smacks of mitts Consume the hot Alabama complex. Another loud pop—the ball bounces, The throw to first beats the runner. “Go three! Go three!”

Wrapped in Radio Strings Margaret Riser, Campus 2014

In the passenger seat I am still except for Eyes flickering front then far right Capturing the slate sky on pale brown grass Winter’s interstate provokes a chaotic Rumble of emotions behind my eyes So I close them. As the volume of the music rises, my chest Does, and I exhale as his tenor pierces The steady pounding of a bass drum Being my heart’s metronome.

The ball cuts the air toward me. A quick glance left: the runner. A locking glare forward: the ball. There is no smack of the mitt, No cheers from fans or players. The hollow thud of ball hitting face; Hot iron oozing frommy mouth.

Metallic rustle as people rise to see. Gasps of horror reach my ears.

Shuffle of feet around me as play finishes. My only thought: “Mom’s going to kill me!” Two missing teeth, and for what? The only reason, the love of the game.

My Car Escort An-RuTeng, International

Wherever you go, I go. I turn you on, You rock respond.

Moving DeAnne Roberts, WED 2012 Empty rooms, bare walls All our lives in boxes. Van cramped, car full Off on our great adventure. Dingy rooms, holey walls Not what we expected. Service jobs, long hours We build a new life beyond the boxes. No home yet, no job Living out of boxes.

Speeding my journey, I depend on you, I trust in you. You are my escort.

Protective, supportive are you, Contented am I.

Outside the windows, Day goes into night.

As music flows full in you, Its tempo quivers me, We Have the same beats.

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